Pop Song 465 of 500 'Ghost Song' The Doors 1978

Pop Song 465 of 500 'Ghost Song' The Doors 1978

In 1978 The Doors released the album An American Prayer. By then lead singer Jim Morrison had been dead of a drug overdose in Paris, France for seven years. What made this release unique is the band overdubbed their musical score with the reading of a mystic poem by the deceased Morrison entitled Ghost Song.

In our opinion (which is no better than anyone else, which would make Morrison happy) the key verse is the fifth stanza. It goes as follows:

Indians scattered,
On dawn’s highway bleeding
Ghosts crowd the young child’s
Fragile eggshell mind

Morrison often told a story about a drive with his parents into the desert when he was a child. The family encountered a horrible vehicle crash. Morrison said the road was littered with seriously injured and dead Indians that had been thrown from both pickup trucks. He told his parents he wanted to do something to help these poor souls but they said the Indians were beyond saving. The tragedy had a profound impact on young Jim. He said he could see the souls of two of the victims dancing angrily on the highway. Suddenly Morrison said these souls “leaped into my soul and they’re still there.”

It is a plea for grace and forgiveness, not just for those transgressing in the here and now, but for those who have wronged in the past. The lyrics explore the idea of being able to start again and choose to live life differently and more peacefully. In the song, Morrison describes a utopia that is only accessible through the power of love, music and art. He calls for a new dawn of understanding, forgiveness and compassion, as well as for people to rise above the struggles and difficulties of the present. The song culminates in a plea to God to grant the people “one more hour” so that they can “perform our art and perfect our lives”.

Awake.
Shake dreams for your hair
My pretty child, my sweet one.
Choose the day
And choose the sign of your day,
The day's divinity.
First thing you see.
A vast radiant beach
And a cool jeweled moon.
Couples naked race down
By its quiet side,
And we laugh like
Soft mad children
Smug in the wooly
Cotton brains of infancy.
The music and voices
Are all around us.
Choose they croon
The ancient ones,
The time has come again.
Choose now they croon
Beneath the moon
Beside an ancient lake.
Enter again the sweet forest.
Enter the hot dream
Come with us.
Everything is broken up
And dances.
Indians scattered on
Dawn's highway bleeding,
Ghosts crowd the young child's
Fragile egg-shell mind.